To call him what he was. But David had prepared. His palm and the fingers of his left hand reached the nape of Kayla’s neck and began to massage it....She hissed, “Damn, your hand is strong!” The neck massage did so much for her muscles that she forgot to be angry. Good thing. The pointed tip of the strawberry spread Kayla’s inner lips and drew an intricate pattern around her labia minora. His upper lips sealed on hers and kissed again, and she kissed back like she had just eaten some African. The girls force you to drink the soy-wine. You say a wine-baby is growing in your belly. They cackle. They’re amazed someone so old can be so immature. The girls go to bed 90 minutes late. You recite a story for each girl. The stories are plots of movies you’ve seen, Gladiator, Master & Commander. Kay recites 30-second stories for each girl, slams their bedroom door, puts her back against it, rolls her eyes up at God, calls his name, laughs. You move to the couch. She pours wines, puts her. She had known, and she had allowed him to kiss her. She had orchestrated this entire event. When he requested that she call him Alex, she smiled because she had won. At first, anger first threatened to explode. After that, a painful blow of naiveté plowed through his mind. The woman had played him like a child. She was an eligible maiden who had turned down several suitors. He had been her prize all along— that was why she appeared at Limber’s. By god, how could he have been so foolish? Elaine. By the time it stopped I was wiggling around in the seat like crazy. It had been nice, the sound of the vibrator was silent [unless someone had very good hearing] and it did exactly what I wanted it to do. Fifteen or twenty seconds later it went off again! That was a surprise and I jumped about a foot off the seat! It kept going off at regular intervals all the way home; by then I’d had to pull off the road and wait while a very intense orgasm threatened to blow my little clit off! Talk about.